


The House of Displeasure

by InterstellarToaster



Series: Second Person: POV [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Golden Cat, Guards, Humor, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:15:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8576275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarToaster/pseuds/InterstellarToaster
Summary: You're a newly stationed guard working at the Golden Cat, babysitting two insufferable nobles, when you suddenly realize you are not alone. Regretfully, it seems you're the only one left to notice this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Whenever I play Corvo, I'm very methodical. I take out all the guards first, then I eat anything I can grab and smash any bottles I find. Imagine my surprise when I think I've cleared out the Golden Cat, only to run straight into one very confused and possibly terrified guard.

 

 

The Golden Cat is nice enough you suppose, leaning on the railing of the balcony and looking out onto the river. Sure, it smells heavily of strong perfumes, almost like a rotting Weeper, and sure the other guards are corrupt and spend most of the time drinking instead of patrolling, and that's not even mentioning the state of some of the rooms...

...You seem to have lost the thread of your remarks. You step back from the railing and straighten your Watch uniform, fixing any loose buckles and ensuring your hair is still proper. Yes, the Golden Cat is nice enough, better than patrolling the Flooded District or getting into fights with the Bottlestreet Gang. At least it's warm, you reason as you step back inside.

You glance to your left, then to your right, ensuring the Pendleton Twins haven't run off again, and thankfully they haven't. Make sure they're safe, your commanding officer said. Of course, then he went off to have some 'alone time' with one of the courtesans and you haven't seen him since. But there are worse jobs out there, and babysitting spoilt noblemen is a cakewalk compared to your other assignments.

The area is quiet as you patrol through the upper level, your footsteps a steady staccato on the plush carpet. Almost comforting too, at least it was something to fill the silence. The...suddenly suspicious and unnerving silence. You stop your walking and simply stand there for a moment, listening. There had been people around before, right? In fact, hadn't there been a few guards stationed up here with you? The silence that was once pleasant is suddenly suffocating, and you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched.

"Hello?" You call out, because if this is Jenkins playing another prank, Outsider's Eyes you'll kill him. But, no one replies. It's just you, standing alone on the plush red carpet like a man stranded in the middle of the sea. You suddenly wish very dearly that this is all some prank by Jenkins.

Crash

There's the sound of shattering glass and you whip your head around, staring directly at the Smoke Room. Morgan was in there, or maybe it was Custis? Nevermind, you need to go check up on him immediately!

"Lord Pendleton?" You knock politely on the grand wooden door, with wafts of smoke clawing out from underneath. There's no response. You try again, for good measure and politeness, but the only sound is your nervous breathing and shifting. You blink once, before pushing the door open. Immediately, a cloud of smoke slams into your face and you double over coughing. When you regain your senses and walk past the divider, your heart jumps into your throat.

"S-sir?" You stammer, rushing forward to the bed that sat in the center of the room. There lay one of the Pendleton twins, along with a courtesan and...another guard? They have some kind of dart imbedded in their necks, but they're still breathing at least. Your relief is short lived as the hairs on your neck suddenly stand on end and you frantically look around. You find nothing, but you draw your sword anyway. The three unconscious bodies lay forgotten as you rush out of the room and look around.

"Hello? There's been an accident, we need help!" You shout, because you are much too underprepared to deal with whatever took out the people in the other room. There's only silence once more, and you realize with hysteria that you might be the only one left. A quick check on the other Pendleton Twin confirms your mounting suspicions. This is very, very bad.

Your sword is still drawn as you frantically rush down the stairs, and your face is frozen in horror when you accidentally stumble across a pile of guards, either alive or dead. Jenkins is nestled somewhere in the middle, and you nearly cry.

Crash

Only a few steps away, you hear the shattering of glass. Your eyes are open wide and your mouth is suddenly dry, but you grip your sword tightly and turn around anyway. There are still people to protect in here, and you refuse to let them down! With the proper courage summoned, you hurry over to the source of the sound. You...didn't expect to run straight into it.

After a brief stumble, you lock eyes with a tall and intimidating man. He wears the coat of a high-ranking official but his face is covered by a horrific mask, a mask which has been pushed up to reveal a mouth with a tart hanging out of it. In one hand are several more tarts, and in the other is a glass bottle, which he slams into the wall after a moment of deliberation. You give a strangled cry of confusion.

"This isn't what it looks like," the man attempts, but his mouth is still full of tart and his hands are as well, and you suddenly aren't sure if the red on his coat is jam or blood. He wolfs down the remaining tarts at inhuman speeds, and suddenly you feel impossibly small, and your sword is like a dull wooden stick in your hands. 

The last thing you see are strong hands closing around your throat, and a voice anxiously shushing you as you pass into unconsciousness.

You wake up hours later, half thrown on top of Jenkins with legs and arms intertwined. Your mouth tastes like cotton and your head is pounding, and you have the faintest feeling that your superiors will never believe you.


End file.
